This week’s additions.
Stamp hard! Puncture the snow
with that minuscule red boot!
You go, you tiny toddler you!
Oh! the Nurse the Syringe
the Sensitivity of my Nerves!
You get a Flu Shot. I Collapse.
flow of his surname
outran the space allotted
on every form he ever filled out
You say the snails are so excited about the party –
I just don’t exactly understand
how you know
I chose me as my confidante –
Yes, that unreliable narrator
who’s telling you this story
you read the note
in your old hoarse voice –
but only in my memory
she played out a cataclysm on the piano –
or was it a caterwaul?
Either way, it sure got people up and running.
The record turns
The pleasant music spirals inward until it
gets dizzy and ends up in a hissy fit
Of course it is her handwriting –
each letter caught in the death struggle
between a too-tight grip and a defiant pen
the anonymous letter…
the clandestine island vacation…
the smell of detergent… the smell of detergent?
Back to reality, I guess. I fold another shirt.
Once again I wonder
exactly what inspires your beard
to grow in that shape?
the oven timer swears
The cake snaps Don’t hurry me.
I set when I set.
I’m not hallucinated that often these days
said the ghost, turning misty pink with pleasure
Thank you for your disbelief in me.
What is Rex’s last name?
No, not his surname –
I mean the name he most recently used.
What? Yes, Rex is that kind of guy.
to pick a fight with
a really great mechanic?
That’s hands-down the stupidest move I’ve ever heard of.
I don’t think of it as
an odious return to atrocious old habits –
I just want to get back to normal
the last lesson a chalk ghost on the blackboard
the bulldozer in place of the last teacher’s desk
the demolition will be finished today
The last day The very last day of school
One by one each triangle rises
orbits the table’s surface
descends to touchdown! on a sea-green plate.
Your rhubarb pie. Out of this world.
The less-than-photogenic contestant.
The hard-eyed judge. The overlap
of appetite and beauty. The cook says:
Yes, this carrot’s fit to eat. Into the pot you go.
each day this triangle turning above the map’s surface
the morning the noon and the night
floating above the green dish of the sea.
Pile on all the laughs you want
bury the expired logic of the professor
but she’s still the one giving out the grades
4 thoughts on “Little Vines 2/16/22”
There is lots of forceful assertiveness peppering this clutch of LVs, whether it is the narrators launching into conflicts, the signature pushing out of the boundaries of the box, or the small child stomping in the fresh snow.
Yes, there is, isn’t there? I guess this week, maybe I feel more in control of my own little world so I pass it on to my created world.
I like the touch of the supernatural in these. (K)
Thank you. I have been re-reading the book Rebecca and though it’s not a traditional ghost story I think it has focused my mind in this influence from the other world direction.
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